The Power of Healing
by jadefirewolf
Summary: All Paul wanted was to spend time with his step-son, Percy Jackson, in relative peace. When that step-son is a powerful demigod, however, a normal day could never be that simple.


Paul had a lot of experience with odd situations, especially ones concerning teenagers. It came with the job description of teaching English to a bunch of moody, rebellious and altogether unbalanced high schoolers. Still, no on and off relationship drama or smartie-snorting kid could compare with holding your seventeen year old step-son in your arms, running from what looked like flying demon children through Mist-shielded eyes, as he bled out.

It had actually started pretty well, all things - otherwise known as Percy's luck - considered. Sally was busy at her job, but it was a school holiday and Percy had decided to stay an extra day at home for some quality bonding time. Or more like Sally half-threatened, half-begged with teary eyes for her son to spend some time with them before he had to go off and inevitably save the world again. Pregnancy hormones made her a little more attached than usual, and Percy, being the filial son he was, couldn't resist. So while they waited for her to come home, Paul and Percy had some time alone.

It wasn't that they were awkward with each other, per say. It had been a while since Sally and her son had decided to let him into the secret world of apparently-not-myths, Gods, and prophecies. Since then, he'd witnessed the boy survive two wars, go missing for seven months of terror, and come out only somewhat worse for the wear. Honestly, he respected Percy. He'd always been a little tight-lipped about what went on during quests. He told stories, sure, but they all knew he kept the worst details locked far, far away in a well-meaning attempt to comfort his mother. Granted, it actually caused her more worry than comfort, but they were working on it. Still, ever since this past war, he'd said next to nothing about his adventures, and he was a little concerned.

It was hard to remind himself that Percy could take care of himself. Compared to the teenagers in his class, Percy was more trained and battle-hardened, had better instincts, and had seen more of the darker parts of life than even the adult faculty.

Yes, he knew Percy could take care of himself, and that he had for a long time. Yes, his concern would lead him almost nowhere. But still, Paul silently thanked whatever gods would bother to listen for this chance. A chance to soften Percy's barriers, to spend some time doing typical mortal activities with an almost passable typical mortal step-parent. He just hoped Percy would appreciate what he had planned as much as he hoped.

They started by going to an aquarium. A risky choice? Maybe. He hoped Percy wouldn't take offense to him bringing a son of the sea god to a place where they locked up his kind - was that the right word?

Percy placed his hands against the glass tank for a few moments while Paul stood in the background, a little confused. Then, he looked up and flashed a bright, genuine smile - and oh what a joy that was to see. "They said it's all good here. Good food, good water, not being eaten by bigger fish - the works."

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled at his step-son. "That's good to hear." He had forgotten the small fact that Percy could, in fact, talk to sea creatures. Because that was his life now.

Percy nodded, then charged ahead with the same energy as a small child in a candy shop. He ogled the tropical fish for a few minutes, then blushed. When Paul asked why, he explained that they were just being too nice. Okay then.

He made more comments along the way, and sure, most of them didn't make any sense to those that didn't communicate with fish.

"The starfish never stop complaining about some guy named Patrick."

"These clownfish have a vocabulary that wouldn't exactly fly on Finding Nemo."

"I didn't realize just how big of gossips sea horses could be."

With every exhibit, Percy's face lost a bit of shadow. He wasn't under any false impressions that this trip would heal every problem that Percy carried on his too-young shoulders. Most likely, nothing ever really could. Still, every increment of brightness, every moment of peace, counted for something.

By the end of the tour, Paul was feeling kind of amazing about himself. Step one was a complete success, if the sparkle in Percy's sea-green eyes was anything to go by. He rambled about some undersea drama, the latest gossip straight from the mouths of the catfish. Maybe he could handle this whole step dad thing.

They had a pretty good meal too, some burgers at a popular joint, but that was when everything had to go wrong.

There must have been some curse on Percy at birth - though he supposed the 'Big Three Scent' could count as that - because on the way home they encountered no less than thirty monsters.

"Aren't they supposed to be dead?" he asked, referring to a few _dracaenas _which he could have sworn Percy beat a few years back. He dove out of the way of a flying car, courtesy of a beefy _something _a few yards back.

"That's the glory of monsters." Percy smiled, _actually smiled, _while slicing at one monster with his sword. "They can die, but they can't be killed." In a blur of motion, Percy took out a whole line of some monsters that were concealed from his eyes thanks to the Mist.

"Ah, that clears it right up." It was moments like this that he wished he took fighting lessons after all. Or at least carried a weapon.

"Look out!" Percy called, and Paul dodged just in time to avoid the glinting claws of a hellhound the size of a semi-truck. His step-son barreled after the beast and turned it into golden dust with a few practiced stabs. "Yeah, that's what I said too. They can regenerate. Plus, these are common monsters." _Stab. _"There's a surplus." _Slice. _"Us demigods are at a little bit of a disadvantage." Three more unidentifiable monsters disintegrated as he spoke, and Paul couldn't help a whistle of appreciation at the multitasking.

He was too focused on his step-son's skills to notice the blurs of motion charging towards him until it was too late. His knees smacked the pavement hard when he dropped to the ground in a last ditch effort to preserve his life, but the pain was nothing compared to the complete terror of nearly being gutted by something he couldn't even see. That was, until he realized that he was not in fact a pile of Paul. Percy stood, back facing him, shielding Paul's prone form. With dawning horror, Paul noted the dripping of a dark liquid on his face. Blood. Percy's blood.

A long claw pierced his stomach in three separate places, each wound streaming blood. Percy grunted, but made no other sound. A moment later, the monster vaporized, and Percy collapsed.

Oh gods, his step-son was just gutted. In the middle of a fight. Protecting him. What would he tell Sally?

The roar of a monster snapped him out of his shock, and he scrambled up to reach Percy's _please just let him be_ unconscious form. A trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his breath came in small, pained gasps. But there was breath. There was a chance.

In an uncharacteristic show of power, he scooped up the boy in his arms, bridal style, and ran with all his strength. Luckily the street was deserted, so no one had time to question the man carrying a bleeding body, running from what looked to be demonic flying children. He tore down streets and alleys, muscle memory leading him to their apartment where he was sure they could give him actual medical attention. There was no other choice.

Under his breath, he sent a prayer to the gods. _Please, after everything that's happened, don't let this be the end. He saved us, you, everybody. Please, give him the strength. Let me save him. _

There must have been at least one god that listened, because before he knew it, he was at the front door of their apartment. He slammed the door open and rushed to the living room. No Sally. He wasn't sure whether or not to be grateful.

Okay, think. He had to think. Focus. What healed demigods? Hadn't Percy mentioned something about water? It was as good a place as any to start.

He carefully yet quickly set Percy down on the couch. The boy looked worse than before, his normally tan skin pale and sickly, face scrunched up even when oblivious.

Water.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't his most brilliant idea, but he was a little distracted by the dying kid on his couch. Paul grabbed the largest glass from their cupboard, and didn't even bother to close it - a usually grievous sin - when he filled the glass with lukewarm tap water.

He ran back to Percy, who luckily didn't look any worse off for those thirty seconds spent alone. Now, was it best to apply the water to a specific area, or should he just dump and hope for the best? No, that wasn't the way to handle this. Probably. Gods, he should have gotten medical training or something too. After this ordeal, he'd have a lot of classes to sign up for.

Now, though, he lifted up Percy's green t-shirt to expose the wound to the air. There were three clean holes, the claws having pierced all the way through his stomach. That couldn't be good news for his internal organs.

Sending up another prayer to the gods, Paul poured the water over the holes and waited in earnest for anything to change. Thank the gods, it did. The wounds started to stitch together on their own, and the flow of blood slowed. The healing stopped too soon. _Wonderful. _While the holes had almost sealed on their own, there were still small trickles of blood, and Percy's breathing didn't sound much better.

Paul rose and rushed to the kitchen to get more water when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Paul." it was weak, but unmistakable.

"Percy!" he rushed back over to the boy's makeshift bedside and knelt, coming face to face with his pale, drained expression. "I was about to get more water, but-"

"Don't bother." Percy rasped, and Paul's heart dropped.

"What? No, I won't give up on you that easily! I mean-"

Percy laughed, though it came out as more of a harsh wheeze. "Not like that. There's just no point. I'd need to be completely submerged in water, preferably saltwater, in order to fix all of this internal bleeding."

"Then what do I do?" Paul's voice probably sounded close to tears, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not in this situation, and gods, if this is what Percy had to deal with on a frequent basis… he almost didn't _want _to know the gruesome details of every quest.

"I've got some nectar and ambrosia in my nightstand." Percy's voice was calm, almost like he was trying to comfort Paul, and if that wasn't all sorts of turned around then he didn't know what was. "Just bring it to me. No offense, but I can take care of that part. Don't really want to burn up today."

"I- okay." this sudden change, this calm, was too much for his overloaded brain to handle. In a daze, he got the supplies and brought it back to Percy's bedside - couch side? No, Percy's ADHD must be rubbing off on him, this was not the time.

"Thanks." Percy took the nectar from his hands, which, to his shame, were trembling.

With the expertise of a veteran, he poured just the right amount over his wounds, then sipped at the drink until he nodded in satisfaction. The holes were sealed up, leaving only small, white circled scars. His breathing had gone back to normal too.

"All better." Percy smiled. "Thanks for getting me here, though. But, uh, what happened to the other monsters?"

As if Percy should thank him, when he was the reason the boy was injured in the first place.

"I ran."

"You...ran?

"Fast." Paul supplied. "Very fast."

"I - wow." Percy said. "That's...ever consider track and field?"

"I competed in high school."

And just like that, it was as if the whole situation had never happened. Percy sat up a few minutes later, still pressing Paul with questions of his apparently impressive athletic ability.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

Paul looked up in shock to see Percy staring a hole in the couch cushion, hair hanging in curtains over his face.

"For getting you involved." he elaborated. "Normally the monsters wouldn't have ever attacked you, but me being there put you in danger and ruined a perfectly good day. So yeah, sorry."

Paul couldn't find it in himself to respond for a few moments. Percy, apologizing? For something completely out of his control?

"You…" he tried. Percy glanced up, and Paul could see a tightness in his expression. Almost like he was afraid.

"I think I should be the one saying that, not you." he managed, not wanting whatever thoughts were in Percy's head to continue to spiral. "I mean, you got hurt saving me from that.. thing. If I could fight better, or had better instincts, or-"

"Don't." Percy interrupted. Now he looked Paul straight in the eyes, and he could see an intense stare that captured him and wouldn't let go. "I mean it. You don't need to blame yourself, not ever, not for something like that." Then Percy smiled, and the effect was lost. "I guess it's just my fatal flaw coming to play again. But I will always do my best to protect the ones that matter to me. You included."

Paul's heart soared, and for the first time he realized that he was a part of something special. He had a place in the life of the enigma that was Percy Jackson. For all of its danger, he couldn't imagine somewhere better to be. Acting on instinct, he wrapped the boy in a tight hug. Percy startled, but soon wrapped his arms tight around Paul's midsection.

"You protect me," Paul mumbled, "but don't forget that I can protect you too."

Percy broke the embrace first, and smiled another true smile. "Gotcha. I'll try my best to make sure that neither of us has to do that though, okay?"

"My boys are so sweet." came a voice across the room. Sally stood at the entrance, one of her arms caressing the baby bump, a blinding smile gracing her face. Then she noticed the chaos of the living room. Blankets tossed haphazardly on the floor, Percy still wearing his bloodstained shirt, water stained all over the side of the couch.

"What exactly happened here?"


End file.
